Choices
by neomaumbra
Summary: Do we make our choices, or do our choices make us? Short one-shot for the backstory of Ezri Tigan and how she ended up with the Dax symbionte while aboard the Destiny. (This short is an excerpt from my larger work entitled "Palinopsia," but is able to stand alone without knowledge of the events of that story.)


**AN:** I'm adding this excerpt as its own standalone piece because I recognize that not everyone will be interested in the longer plot of my other story. However, this flashback sequence is able to exists on its own and in compliance with show canon as an interpretation of the events that may have taken place aboard the Destiny before Ezri was introduced on "Star Trek: Deep Space Nine". Note that this interpretation is not in compliance with the non-canon novel "The Lives of Dax". Excerpt comes from Chapter 3 of the story "Palinospia", available on here from my same account.

* * *

Ezri could recall the confusion she had felt when she was called to the ship's sickbay. At first, seeing the out-of-place bronze transport pod in sickbay, she hadn't even realized it was housing the symbionte. That fact that only dawned on her when she got closer and could see through the fogged up glass the murky, thick, grey waters, and the small brown being inside. She'd never been this close to one outside of a host.

"It's dying," the doctor told her.

"It is?" She ask, making a face and leaning in closer to see the small, snakelike thing. She wouldn't have known the difference between a sick or healthy one even if someone had held a phaser to her head. "I thought the doctors on Deep Space Nine said it was stable."

"It was, at the time. But it's life signs are dwindling. We think it must be the synthesized mixture it's lying in. We used a replicator pattern on file, but it looks like the synthesized agents aren't being properly absorbed. These things happen sometime..."

Ezri straightened up and with knit brow she shrugged her shoulders, feeling useless, "I'm sorry, I don't know how I could be of help. I never learned much about these... things." While it was an honor among Trill culture to be joined, having been raised off-world, her family never thought much about anyone going into the program, and thus no one ever looked into any specifics about the old and honored creatures. And when Ezri left home, her only thought was to get into an organization that would make her mother at least a little bit proud, and also make it impossible for her to expect Ezri to drop anything and run back home should the need arise. Excuses like ' _Sorry, Mom, we're along the border of the neutral-zone for the next two weeks. No shuttles can be sent until the mission is over. Love, Ezri,'_ had appealed to her.

But there were still a number of Trill on New Sydney. Ezri had been raised with the expected reverence for the simple creatures, and the few exceptional members of society who had the honor to host them. Truth be told, it was always criticisms from her mother that kept her from ever even considering the Joining, herself. While never directly stated, her mother had made it clear Ezri's whole life that her talents were far too mundane to award her a place in such a program. She could hear her mother now. " _Do you really think a girl from a simple family of miners wouldn't be laughed right off the application site?"_

But the doctor hadn't seemed discouraged by Ezri's remarks. "No, no, that's alright," he'd told her, "We're actually pretty certain what could be done to save Dax."

"You are?" Ezri was relieved. A symbionte with three hundred years or so of experience would be a terrible loss. Such an ancient, noble creature. So many memories and so much wisdom. To Trills, the lives of the symbiontes were almost a religion. They weren't gods, persay, but they were revered the same way Bajorans revered a Kia or an Orb from their beloved Prophets.

"We saw in the Trill database that often symbiontes who are sick recover once moved into their new hosts."

"Yes, the symbionte connects to the host's circulatory system and its its own organs become somewhat dormant as it binds itself permanently to the host." It was why removing the symbionte after integration was complete would kill the host in a matter of hours. The symbionte's systems could take over again for itself, but the host's body would have become dependent on the symbionte's neural feedback and additional circulatory pathways. Trill children learned all about it in grade school. There were even nursery rhymes about it.

"Based on my latest scans," said the doctor, "even at Maximum Warp, the chances of getting to Trill in time are just... too slim..."

"Oh, no..." Ezri muttered, eyebrows knitting with concern. She put her hands on the side of the container and leaned in. It was so hard to tell what did or didn't look healthy for the thing. But, watching carefully, Ezri could see the way it trembled in its pool. Just enough to indicate its pain and deteriorating condition.

"The only thing that might stabilize it would be..." the doctor continued, stepping up behind Ezri and passing his tricorder over the chamber, "to join it to a host. And quickly."  
"So Trill is sending an Initiate?"  
The doctor shook his head, "There's not enough time... Ezri, I... we're not certain how to ask you this..."

She turned her head to give the doctor a puzzled look, but then it struck her what was being implied. She was the only Trill on the Destiny.

She could recall how she'd shot up and stepped back several paces from the chamber, as if suddenly joining could occur just by proximity.

"Me?! But no, I... I couldn't. I mean, I haven't been vetted. I might not even qualify biologically for joining. And I- I-..."  
"There are records from the Enterprise of the human first officer being host to a symbionte for several hours."  
"So- so put it in a human!"

The doctor offered her a soft chuckle. It was grim and without much humor. He shook his head. "The symbionte in that case was much stronger. And their joining taxed both host's and symbionte's systems. But... if it was in a Trill body, even one not qualified for long-term, it could have a chance to rest. Regain its strength."

Ezri was silent. Her eyes felt about ready to burst right out of her skull, and she felt herself beginning to grow pale. The doctor stepped up and put a hand on each of her shoulders. "Trills have a few hours after being joined before the symbionte becomes necessary to the host's survival, correct? Ezri, that's all we'd need. I'll put you under for the operation and keep you asleep until we arrive on Trill and can remove it. In theory, well, you'll wake up and it will be as if Dax was never even there."

She couldn't really process what he was telling her. Her eyes were on the makeshift travel chamber. She felt a little nauseous. And Ezri never got nauseous. Even in Starfleet's infamous Class Two Shuttles, notorious for causing claustrophobia among the cadets, she had always surpassed her peers at handling the effects of space travel. She was somewhat aware that the doctor was guiding her to a biobed to sit down on, saying something about her looking white as a ghost. _I feel like one,_ Ezri thought as she sat down.

The doctor put a hand on Ezri's chin and lifted it up so she would focus for a moment and look him in the eye. "Ensign Tigan," he told her, "We cannot force you to do this. It's your decision."  
"But if I don't..."  
"Dax will die, yes."

She was silent. The doctor took a deep breath and patted her on the shoulder. "I'll give you a few minutes to think about it. But if we're going to do this and be successful, we'll have to start soon." He walked out of the room to his office, giving her some time alone to make her choice.

She had tried to clear her head. Tried to think rationally. But her mind was blank, but for the image of the small creature, wriggling around in the shallow pool. They didn't look so noble like that, did they? They were even kind of ugly. _Worms_ , like non-Trill tended to call them. A disrespectful term for such amazing creatures. What other species in the Federation lived as long? Some Vulcans, perhaps, but even then a Vulcan's wisdom was dim in comparison to that of a symbiont's, who would collect entire lifetimes as different entities. Different people. And those people lived on so long as it did. Ezri knew if she let this one die because of her hesitance, she would be essentially killing _eight people_. It was her duty as a Trill to protect a symbionte's life, whatever the cost. It's what they'd always been taught. And she was training to be a counselor, wasn't she? Could she live with the guilt of not helping this person - this _collection_ of people - when it needed her?

But then, there was the nagging thought: _What if we don't reach Trill in time? What if the doctors can't remove it?_ Then, she would be gone. At least the she that she was now. Her personality would be a blend of hers and a stranger's. _Many_ strangers. Her entire life until now would become just a short twenty years or so out of over three hundred! They called it "joining," but to Ezri seemed more like _swallowing_. Being swallowed whole. Would her personality be able to persist? Or would who she was just vanish, unable to compete with the stronger, older, bolder lives? In a sense, it was her life on the line. Ezri Tigan would be gone. Ezri Dax would be what was left.

But, then again, it wasn't a sure thing. The doctor felt reasonably confident they'd make it to Trill on time. And Ezri was a Starfleet officer, wasn't she? Putting her life on the line to save others was part of the job description. And wouldn't she rush in to save the lives of eight people even at the risk of her own? Say a rescue mission from an attack by a Dominion ship? She knew she would. So why was this different? Was it different at all?

 _Yes_ , she eventually found a small, but resolute voice in the back of her mind tell her, _This is different_. _Because this is a symbionte. And what kind of Trill would you be to let one die when you could save it…?_


End file.
